The Secret Files
by Saiyan Princess
Summary: Late one night, Minerva and Severus get locked in an off-limits file room. Rivalry and gossip follow as they speak of teaching. their pasts, and other staff members. Will they walk away with a greater understanding of each other, or will they go insane an
1. Trapped!

The Secret Files  
Saiyan Princess  
  
Hi! This is going to be really bad -- I'm up late at night with a health   
condition. I've decided to write a little fanfic about Minerva and Severus.  
  
  
"What the hell are you doing here?" a voice snapped.  
Professor Snape whipped around, instictively reaching for his wand. When he  
saw the intruder in the doorway, he rolled his dark eyes.  
"I could ask you the same question Minerva."  
"I heard footsteps. Dumbledore's file room is off-limits, you know."  
"Yes, yes it is. Why don't you leave?"  
As Professor McGonagall entered, Snape's eyes widened in panic.  
"Minerva! The door--"  
It was too late. The heavy oak door quickly and quietly shut, causing both  
teachers to wince, then rush to the door.  
"Good going, Minerva!" Snape growled. "I don't assume Albus gave you the   
password?"  
"We're trapped..."  
"I know."  
"Don't glare at me, Severus. This isn't my fault. You were the one in the   
file room."  
"You closed the damn door."  
"You opened it."  
"You still closed it."  
"You're impossible. At least I won't be the one in trouble when Dumbledore  
finds us in the morning. What were you doing anyway?"  
Snape didn't answer. He continued doing what just what he had been before:  
looking through files. He pulled out a folder labeled "Malfoy, Draco."  
"Well? What about that prat do you need to find out?"  
After looking through the papers, Snape returned them with disgust.   
"They're useless," he muttered.  
"Start talking, Severus," demanded McGonagall.  
The Potions teacher sighed and sunk into a chair.  
"This is confidential, Minerva. It doesn't leave this room. But in my class  
several days ago, I noticed Mr. Malfoy didn't have his sleeves rolled up   
while working with the potions as my students are supposed to, for safety   
reasons, you know. This puzzled me, because he nearly always follows rules."  
At this point, McGonagall rolled her eyes. Snape continued.  
"Anyway, at one point one of his sleeves fell down, revealing his forearm.   
There were marks all over it, all these bruises. He had just come back from  
home, too, after Christmas break. He pulled his sleeve back into place at   
once."  
"Have you spoken to Dumbledore?"  
"Yes," replied Snape bitterly. "He said we shouldn't jump to conclusions. I  
was just checking out his health records. I wanted to see if Poppy had   
treated any other bruises of his. His file's clean, except the Buckbeak   
episode."  
McGonagall was looking at Snape intently now.   
"The Malfoys always seemed to pamper him, but I wouldn't put anything past  
them," she said.  
"Neither would I. Maybe I should talk with Draco. I don't know... If he were  
Potter, Dumbledore would be all over him by now, full of concern."  
"Don't you dare blame Harry for this, Severus. I'll talk to Dumbledore about  
it, generally, of course."  
"Thanks."  
The two sat in silence for awhile, studying the room. Being January, it was  
very cold in the stone room.  
"We'll probably be here all night," McGonagall said, rising. "We might as  
well be comfortable."  
She conjured up a small blue fire and sat next to it.   
"Come on," she urged, gesturing for Snape to come near the fire too. "You'll  
freeze over there."  
Snape reluctantly settled down beside the blue flames.   
"My joints are getting old and stiff," complained McGonagall.  
"I'm not young anymore either."  
"Excuse me?" asked the Transfiguration teacher sharply.  
"Well, forty is approaching."  
McGonagall glared daggers at him.  
"Forty is NOT old!" she yelled.  
"It's not young, either."  
"Yes, it is! I wish I were in my forties again. You young people don't   
appreaciate what you have."  
"I'm not a 'young person.' You're treating me like Moody did."  
Silence settled in again, until McGonagall asked another question.  
"Severus, is it true that the other teachers say I cling to Dumbledore too  
much?"  
"Are you trying to set me just to get mad at me tonight?" asked Snape,   
exasperated. "What are you going to ask next? If your red Gryffindor robes  
make you look fat?"  
"Do they?"  
"Which 'they?' The other teachers or the robes?"  
"Either."  
"I'm not answering."  
"Then the answer to both is yes," cried McGonagall.   
She buried her face in her hands.  
"Well, the gold robes are more flattering," offered Snape hesitantly.  
McGonagall began to cry. It was going to be a long night.  
  
  
  
  
More to come!  



	2. The Night Goes On...

The Secret Files  
Saiyan Princess  
Chapter Two  
  
Thanks everyone for reviewing the first chapter. It was so late that I didn't  
even use the spell check. I hope it was legible. Anyway, the story continues!  
(With editing this time, sort of.)  
  
  
While he waited for McGonagall to calm down, Snape continued to look around  
the cold prison. There wasn't much else to do, and the room wasn't very   
interesting. File cabinets have limited appeal. The connecting bathroom was  
handy, but also uninteresting. Luckily, he found a quill and a notebook on a   
crude wooden desk. He settled down beside the fire again and began to   
outline his lesson plan for the following day. The class would be learning   
about the Nonignis potion, which allowed people to stand any degree of heat.  
After drinking it, someone could swim through molten lava. However, the   
potent potion was so powerful that it had some adverse effects. It would   
cause a witch or wizard to ache all over for several days. Some of its   
ingredients were dangerous, which was why he was not allowing the students   
to make their own Nonignis potions. He wrote down "Draco Malfoy" as a   
possible assistant, and then, after a pause and a slight grimace, listed   
"Hermione Granger" as well. Annoying as the Gryffindor girl was, she could  
handle the tricky potion. He just hoped she and Draco wouldn't purposely harm  
each other with the ingredients. What next? For a demonstration, he could  
give some to Longbottom's toad and dip it in flames. That was an enticing   
idea. He realized then that McGonagall had stopped her pity party.   
"What are you writing?" she asked.  
"Lesson plans."  
"I hope Albus finds us tomorrow. What will we tell our students about our  
being late?"  
"Umm...important business?"  
"That works. What will we tell Albus?"  
"We got lost?" Snape suggested.  
"We became really stupid overnight?" McGonagall offered.  
"He probably won't mind the truth too much. After all, the welfare of my  
students is my responsibility. He can't deny that."  
"Why did you write down Malfoy and Granger's names?" McGonagall asked, nodding  
towards Snape's paper.  
"I need capable potions students for a Nonignis brewing demonstration   
tomorrow. Is there anything else in my outline you would care to ask about?"  
Silence.  
"Do you really think the Malfoys are hurting their son?" McGonagall blurted  
out after several minutes.  
Snape sighed.  
"I don't know what to think. Who knows? It could have been an accident. No,  
they were obvious strike marks. It looked as if they were made with a ruler,  
or some sort of stick. I'll talk to him."  
"What are you going to say?"  
"I could just ask him if his arm is bothering him. He has been extra careful  
with it, and yesterday that dunderhead Longbottom crashed into him, against  
that arm, and he winced noticeably. He might not tell me anything, but at   
least the option is there for him."  
McGonagall nodded in agreement.   
"Remember when Moody turned him into a ferret last year?" she asked suddenly.  
"Yes," he replied darkly. "Mad Eye truly is mad. You know, here we are, a   
witch and a wizard, and we're sitting on a freezing cold stone floor."  
He conjured up a plush rug immediately. McGonagall laughed at their ignorance  
and turned two sheets of paper into blankets.  
  
  
The night wore on, and the two professors were getting tired. Unable to   
sleep, and bored, they began asking each other random questions.  
"Severus, did it hurt when You-Know-Who put the Dark Mark on your arm?"  
"Of course. He burned it on."  
"Poppy couldn't heal it?"  
"I never went to anyone about it. I doubt it could be erased."  
"Do you think I should stop wearing my hair in a bun?"  
"I don't really care."  
"You know that staff meeting on Thursday?"  
"What about it?"  
"I'm thinking of suggesting a summer program."  
"Why? So we can work more?" asked Snape, incredulous.  
"I think it would be a good idea. Some students don't want to go home, you  
know."  
"Tell Dumbledore that it would benefit Potter and no doubt he'll agree to do  
it."  
"Severus! Stop picking on poor Harry. Besides, Potter might not be the only  
student to benefit from a summer program. The more we keep the children of  
Death Eaters away from their parents, the better."  
"What would the summer program be? What would the children do?"  
"Well...they could choose several classes to take for the duration of the  
program. I don't know. It's just a thought."  
"I wonder what Filch will do when Mrs. Norris dies?"  
"That's morbid, Severus."  
"Seriously, what would he do without that cat?"  
"I doubt she'll go anytime soon. She's a stubborn as he is. They'll go down  
together."  
"Sibyll has predicted that cat's death three times now, hasn't she?"  
"Do NOT get me started on Sibyll!" yelled McGonagall.  
"She once said that she and I would get married."  
"WHAT?"  
Snape smirked coldly.  
"It was right after one of her friends got engaged. I guess she felt that she  
had to get married, too."   
"You told her off, of course?"  
"I couldn't. I was laughing too hard."   
McGonagall began to giggle.  
"She was furious, understandably," Snape continued. "Later that day she came  
to me and said she'd made a mistake. Her real husband, she claimed, would be  
Flitwick."  
McGonagall was laughing without restraint now.   
"Can you imagine that wedding?" asked McGonagall.  
  
  
Eventually, Snape got up and looked through files again. Suddenly, he pulled   
one out.  
"Here's a new file," he said.  
Snape settled back down on the rug and began to read. "Cut on arm from   
Hippogriff. Bruises on back and hands from Moody's transfiguration punishment.  
Hey! Poppy wrote 'serves him right' on here. Bad ankle sprain - Quidditch,   
sprained wrist - Quidditch, knee contusion - Quidditch. Head cold. Well,   
that's it for injuries and ailments."  
"How does a person sprain one's ankle in Quidditch?" pondered McGonagall.  
"Poppy wrote here that his foot struck another student's broom when they were  
practicing."  
"Potter's health file must be an inch thick," said McGonagall.  
"Why can't anyone shut up about Potter? He has a scar. Good for him. Any   
sadomasochist could easily do the same."  
"For the last time, Severus, leave the boy alone!"  
"I have a student who is possibly being beaten at home, and Dumbledore won't   
do a bloody thing about it! Hogwarts revolves around Potter, and Dumbledore   
can't even listen to one little concern about a Slytherin student."  
Tense silence followed as Snape fumed.  
"Severus, I'm sure Dumbledore is concerned. But what could we do if Mr. Malfoy  
was beating his son? File a lawsuit to force the Malfoys to give up their   
parental rights? I doubt it."  
"You're right, I suppose," sighed Snape, defeated.   
"I know it's frustrating. A few years ago I had a student, John McKay, who   
was being hurt at home--"  
"A few years ago?" interrupted Snape. "He was here when I was here. He sat  
next to me in your class."  
"Oh. Time flies. Great, now I feel old again. Anyway, there was little we   
could do. Now getting him help would be easier, but back then... Now I   
remember! You WERE in that class! Third row, second desk. I really am getting  
old..."  
"Don't start that again."  
Snape noticed a small metal cupboard on the wall. Curiously, he raised his   
wand and opened it.  
"Minerva, look," he said.   
A bottle of wine had been stored there.  
"Thirsty?" asked McGonagall, floating the bottle over with her wand.  
"What if it's a poison meant to kill trapped teachers who tried to read their  
students' health files?" asked Snape.  
"You're the potions expert," McGonagall pointed out, opening the bottle.  
Snape poured a drop on his finger and tasted it. He looked confused.  
"This isn't poison or wine, it's..." He looked at the label.  
"Sparkling apple juice," finished McGonagall.  
  
  
  
Once again, longing for alcohol doesn't pay off. One more chapter to come!  
(Unless Severus and Minerva never escape! [evil laugh]) When will the cabin  
fever set in??????? The next chapter will probably be longer. I hope that's   
okay. Or was this one too short? I can never tell. :-(  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
